


in the frame

by itsahockeyplay



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 03:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13731843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsahockeyplay/pseuds/itsahockeyplay
Summary: Apparently, Petya had – once again – procrastinated and forgotten to get a Russian for his “Sexiest Languages of Europe” video. None of the other Russians Petya knew were willing to go through with filming, citing increasingly absurd excuses. It had started with Seryozha claiming his mother was ill and ended with Vasya claiming he had to walk his imaginary dog. Zhenya had been the last resort, and he had milked it for all it was worth. The fact that Zhenya also brought “celebrity status” on account of being the Pens’ captain had been judiciously used during the negotiations. Zhenya had left them a happy man.





	in the frame

**Author's Note:**

> this was written thanks to [this ](http://nomorelonelydays.tumblr.com/post/170968410242/sinkpages-what-about-a-sidgeno-version-of-this)absolutely wonderful post. like, the idea wasn't mine AT ALL. i just loved it and couldn't get it out of my head. i wasn't gonna post it on ao3 but edited it a bit and thought why not it's easier to keep track of my work this way

At the beseeching behest of Petya, Zhenya agrees to participate in his dumb video. All he knows is that he’s supposed to show up, talk in Russian to a couple of people, and then leave. He can handle that. Especially if it means Petya will finally stop lording the “favor” Zhenya owes him over his head.

Apparently, Petya had – once again – procrastinated and forgotten to get a Russian for his “Sexiest Languages of Europe” video. None of the other Russians Petya knew were willing to go through with filming, citing increasingly absurd excuses. It had started with Seryozha claiming his mother was ill and ended with Vasya claiming he had to walk his imaginary dog. Zhenya had been the last resort, and he had milked it for all it was worth. The fact that Zhenya also brought “celebrity status” on account of being the Pens’ captain had been judiciously used during the negotiations. Zhenya had left them a happy man.

He isn’t a happy man when he shows up with an iced coffee in his hands, sunglasses on, and an unimpressed expression on his face. Vova’s in town and had insisted on going out the night before, keeping Zhenya up until four in the morning and forcing ten shots too many down his throat. Vodka gives him a hangover like no other, so he thinks he should be congratulated for not vomiting all over the set, let alone _showing up_.

He doesn't have time to examine the set — he doesn't really want to, anyway, because he's focusing on staying upright — because Petya spots him and teleports in front of him. “Oh, thank god you’re here,” he says lowly, putting a hand on his arm and dragging him away. “We’ve had an issue with one of the participants, and we’ve had to use one of our own instead.”

Zhenya grunts to show he’s listening, though he really isn't. He’d taken two Ibuprofen before coming, but they haven’t fucking kicked in yet, it seems. Or he’s going to spend the entire shoot this fucking miserable.

Petya deposits him in the makeup artist’s chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I mean, I guess it’s also hilarious, since Sid’s, like, the _opposite_ of the kinda guy to volunteer for this, which is why he was voted in as a substitute. God bless democracy, I guess.”

Zhenya grunts again, squinting when his sunglasses are forcibly removed, bringing up a hand to shield his eyes which is unceremoniously swatted away. He submits to the makeup artist’s will and settles into his chair; it's remarkably easy to do. He doesn’t care about this Sid guy, he doesn’t care that Petya’s subject has flaked out, he doesn’t care that he’s technically fifteen minutes late – at this point, all he really cares about is sleep.

“Whatever,” Petya says, as if Zhenya had said anything. “The _point_ is, I hope you have some Russian prepared, because we’re gonna start filming in about ten minutes.”

Zhenya waves his hand because he’s tired of listening to Petya, and Petya fucks off, finally. His makeup artist – a stone-faced guy – doesn’t bother engaging him in small-talk, for which he’s thankful. He finishes with makeup about fifteen minutes in – after having signed said makeup artist’s apron and various items of clothing and paper for those in the vicinity – and relaxes in the waiting area until he’s called up.

He only gets to relax for a few minutes before a nervous young woman – probably an intern, judging by her “INTERN” nametag – comes to pull him away.

Petya’s one of the cameramen, so Zhenya doesn’t really get an acknowledgement as he surveys the man sitting on the barstool. After laying eyes on him, though, he forgets all about Petya.

The man has a blindfold on, but his cheeks are flushed red, pretty pink lips twisted in a frown, thick thighs parted as he grips the stool with both hands in between them. His shoulders are broad, he’s wearing a tight black polo that shows off the fact he’s _obviously_ a regular at the gym, and he’s got the cutest dark curls on his head. He’s blindfolded, but Zhenya has no doubt that his eyes follow the theme – mainly, the fact he’s fucking _beautiful._

Zhenya immediately regrets the fact that the Russian he’d prepared is a host of hockey plays – he’s predictable, fucking sue him – and instead wants to sit down and woo this man, ask him to coffee, listen to his fucking hopes and dreams.

“I know you’re all having a fucking field day with this,” he says, and Zhenya’s 99% sure he’s glaring behind the blindfold. “Fuck all of you. And I swear, I’m gonna make every single one of you pay.”

“Shhh,” Petya says, wide grin on his face, and he glances at Zhenya before looking back at the subject – Sid, presumably. “The next contestant has arrived. You don’t want to ruin his experience, do you?”

Sid grumbles but doesn’t say anything loud enough for Zhenya to pick up.

Petya says, in English, “Okay, go stand next to him,” and Zhenya does.

He’s been waiting for the cue. He goes to stand next to Sid and looks at Petya, asking in Russian: “Are we allowed to touch?”

Petya snorts. “No, you fucking pervert.”

“Pervert? No, I like to think of myself as a method actor,” Zhenya says, and he’s so glad he’s supposed to be speaking Russian because he’s about ten times smoother in Russian than he is in English. He's been told that ten times zero is still zero, but what the fuck does Seryozha know, anyway.

Sid’s gone still next to him, his grip on the stool white-knuckled.

Petya’s smiling – worryingly wide, if Zhenya lets himself think about it; he doesn’t let himself think about it, though, because every brain cell’s occupied thinking about the man to his right – and it takes a few seconds before someone’s saying, “Aaaaaand…ACTION.”

“Hey, beautiful,” Zhenya says, letting his voice drop and a smirk grow on his face.He hears Petya scoff, but he ignores him. “I know you get this a lot, but, damn, you’re gorgeous.”

Sid’s getting pinker, biting his lip, still stock-still, and it eggs Zhenya on.

“Sounds like all talk, probably, but I can get specific, if you want,” he says. “How about this – I want to want to pin you down and kiss you until the early hours of the morning, listening to your hopes and dreams, getting to know who you are and how you work.” Sappy, but it fucking _works_ , thanks. That, and also, it’s true.

“Oh my god,” Sid whispers, and he’s been steadily getting redder and redder as Zhenya talks, “he sounds just like Evgeni Malkin. Guys. What the fuck.”

Zhenya rears back, having to stifle his laugh because he’s really fucking glad he sounds like Evgeni Malkin. “Oh? You’re a fan of Evgeni Malkin? Maybe I should discuss the Pens’ powerplay with you. Or discuss the ten-game point streak Evgeni Malkin's on. Or how many goals he's scored in the past month. Would that get you going?”

“You’re a fan of Evgeni Malkin?” Petya says in English. “Sounds like you have a bit of a crush. Our mystery man might take offense at that.”

“No, I don’t – “ He’s _red_ , now. “I don’t, like, have a _crush_. He just. He plays really good hockey and he’s kinda cute and he’s so good with kids and – “ Sid cuts himself off.

“No, please, continue – I was really enjoying you extol Evgeni Malkin’s virtues. Don Cherry could take some pointers from you,” Zhenya says.

“I – did he just say Don Cherry?” Sid asks.

“Yeah. Seems like he’s a hockey fan, too. Guess he wants you to continue talking about Malkin,” Petya says in English, and, fuck, Zhenya’s gonna owe him so _much_ , but damn, it’s gonna be worth it.

“I’m not gonna – I’m not, y’know, like, _in love_ with Malkin or anything. I mean, I’d love to talk to him about his faceoff game. But, y’know.” Sid fidgets, frowning. “He’s just – y’know.”

“No, I don’t,” Petya says, and Zhenya can see his teeth flashing in a smile.

“God, why are you so obsessed with Malkin?”

“Just – tell me why you like him.” Zhenya’s going to owe Petya until the end of time. He's never going to hear the end of it.

“He’s just really. You know.” Sid waves a hand, as if to explain something. “He’s just an attractive guy, okay? Like – kinda perfect.” He huffs. “I’m allowed to dream, okay?”

A few people have been trying to muffle their laughter, but they can’t really contain it anymore.

“What the fuck are you guys laughing at?” Sid pushes up the blindfold, staring to the opposite side as he says, “I swear, if I have to – “ He swivels his head toward Zhenya and stops, eyes widening, lips parting. His mouth works. “Oh my god,” he whispers.

Zhenya was right – his eyes _are_ as beautiful as the rest of him.

“You’re – what the fuck. You – did you – oh my god. I’m gonna have to move back to Canada,” he says faintly. People are laughing outright now.

Zhenya smiles at him.

“Jesus Christ." The blindfold's clutched tightly in one hand. "You’re Evgeni Malkin. Fuck me.”

Before he can tell himself it’s a bad idea, Zhenya says, in English: “Can I at least take you to dinner first?”

**Author's Note:**

> ngl i feel like these short "oh they just meet each other and....like....imagine the rest" (of which i have done like 3 now??) should probably be a part of a series called something like "introductions happen but nothing else does." anyway, thanks for reading!! hope you guys liked it. and, ofc -- this absolutely wasn't my idea!! i'm p sure i even lifted like a couple of lines of dialogue from there. all credit goes to those who made the post.
> 
> i'm also on [tumblr](https://itsahockeyplay.tumblr.com/), if that's of interest!!


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